


an heir of madness.

by sonsoflucis



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Body Horror, Breeding, Dubious Consent, F/M, Insemination, Mild Blood, Post-World of Ruin, Ritual Sex, daemon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 09:50:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonsoflucis/pseuds/sonsoflucis
Summary: the world of ruin produces a monster. and he must breed.





	an heir of madness.

**Author's Note:**

> mind the tags.

You couldn’t remember when you were taken, when the light became an enemy. You couldn’t remember when the familiar azure of his eyes bled into a dusty gold, circled by thick black. You couldn’t remember when _stop_ became _more_. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Because you’d found him, you’d found Noctis. Or he’d found you. And you were his queen once more.

Not once have you been a prisoner in the Citadel. But that doesn’t mean you can leave. It doesn’t mean you have free will. Your freedom only extends as far as Noctis’ needs allow.  And that isn’t much to speak of. During the day, you roam the halls, the ghosts of your former life, of the Citadel as it was before the fall, echoing in your memory. Dancing images haunt your peripheral, the sounds of the city a distant thrum. The shield keeps a close eye on you, sending his men out to supervise when Noctis needs him to stay by his side.

The laughter that used to light up the corridors is gone, the windows covered with dark cloth.

And at night… Nighttime is when he calls for you. And as you peel back a corner of the fabric to peek out the window, the remaining light of day fades behind the horizon, the sound of boots nearing sending a jolt down your spine. Gladiolus descends from the royal bedchambers, his hair long and tied in a bun, uniform crisp as he waits for you to join him. You stopped trying to convince him to let you rest, just one night to yourself, a long time ago. He dips his head down in a curt gesture of familiarity as you pad over to him quietly. Gladio guides you with a firm hand on the small of your back, leading you to the washroom where you prepare for what’s to come.  He waits in the hall as you undress, slipping into the large marble tub, submerging yourself in the lilac-scented water. Petals cling to your face when you resurface, the room hazy and purple as the sun disappears. Some days, you’d scurry down here before Gladio came to fetch you because the sunset would light up the water with golden rays, shafts of sunlight spilling through the one window they allowed uncovered. Just for you. Just for his queen.

You’d move your hand through the water elegantly, watching the light fracture and break across your wet skin. It’s one of the few times you feel truly alone.

But now it’s dark and the bath is quick. Gladio enters when he hears you step out of the tub, looking you over with his sharp eyes. “He wants you to wear this,” he murmurs, presenting you with a thin, silver collar.

“What about my clothes?” you ask softly. The usual dresses the shield brings upon request are nowhere to be found. “He always wants me to wear black.”

“Not this time.” Gladio gently turns you about, hooking the metal band around your throat and clasping it with a click. “You won’t be leaving his chambers for some time.”

“But I have to check on the gardens in the morning. And I promised I’d help with the bread for the refugees.”

“It’s all taken care of. You are not to leave him, do you understand?” He brushes your hair from your face with a tenderness you have grown to understand and crave, his warm eyes sympathetic. “We need an heir. We have to continue the line.”

“What if I can’t give him one?” you breathe.

“You will.” Gladio hands you a towel from the cupboard and, as soon as you are dry, begins the journey with you to the royal chambers. You aren’t afraid of being nude, especially not around Gladiolus, but the disruption in your routine made everything feel foreign. Once at the door, he steps aside, his jaw set as he gestures for you to enter. “This is it. I can feel it,” he whispers.

“I hope so.” Swallowing dryly as you turn the handle, you push the heavy door open and step inside the pitch-black room. It shuts behind you with a dull thud, the lock clicking, plunging you into darkness. You know to wait, hands trembling with anticipation. Sometimes he doesn’t recognize you right away. But that’s what the flowers were for. He associates you with lilacs, some far-off memory of you giggling in the gardens with him, a picnic and tangled legs, lingering in his damaged mind. You hear the bed creak, a presence beside you in a matter of moments, breath hot on your throat.

“You wore it for me,” a cool voice murmurs, hands closing around your wrists.

“I love it,” you reply quietly, keeping still as his hands roam. There is no fabric to tear away from your body this time, nothing in the way of what he wants. “It reminds me of your crown. It’s beautiful.”

“Only the best for my queen.” The smell Noctis carries with him is not of rot, not like the daemons lurking in the dark shadows of Lucis, but rather a dampness, like forgotten books in a secret trunk. His voice isn’t the same either, a bit raspy, sometimes more growl than anything. But it’s your Noctis, your prince, your king, your husband. You feel his claws as his hands travel across your chest, harshly groping as he reminds you who you belong to, who has conquered you in every way.

The way he makes love to you… No, the way he _fucks_ you now is so unlike how it used to be. You recall fondly the summer nights on the balcony of his apartment, his head between your thighs as you tried to read to him, to no avail. Every word ended in a breathy moan until the book laid abandoned, your fingers tangled in his raven hair. Your secret rendezvous in Insomnia’s winding alleyways, how he’d hike your skirt up and take you with people mere feet away, hoping the paparazzi didn’t catch you again.

But that was a lifetime ago and you were both different people. If you could even call him that anymore.

Noctis leads you to the bed, your knees knocking into the side as he shoves you down, lifting your hips up. His breathing is ragged as he lurches to the closed windows, silvery moonlight filling the room as he opens the curtains. And there he is, his eyes glinting in the darkness, the only predator you don’t fear. Long, curled horns protrude from his forehead, bent back, colored a charcoal grey. His feathery black hair is wild, yet not unkempt, fangs glistening as he licks his lips. His skin is ashen, veins dark, his hands morphing into sharp claws.

He moves like death itself, the only sound his rattling breath as he circles around to your other side with an unnatural shuffle. Somewhere in there is the man you fell in love with and that part of him is the only thing that keeps you alive. “I’m going to fill this cunt, _my_ cunt,” he growls, black slime dripping off his chin as he kicks your legs further apart, already rutting into the air, his arousal nudging your thigh.

You keep your back arched, the collar digging into your throat as your grip tightens on the sheets. “What are you here for?” he snarls. You shiver as the ooze trickles onto your back, smeared across your backside as he grows more and more impatient.

“I’m here to host the next heir to the line of Lucis,” you breathe, squirming as he sniffs your hair, nuzzling the back of your neck.

“Your womb is mine. Your being, your soul. All of it is mine,” he snaps, licking your cheek with his long, violet tongue. You nod, opening your mouth to respond, but his tongue pushes past your lips and you squeal in surprise, coughing as his body presses you down against the mattress. Gasping as he pulls away, you lick the black sludge off your lips, acrid and bitter as it invades every taste bud. As disgusting as you first thought it to be, you came to realize it made you insatiable, set every nerve aflame, made you a writhing, wet mess for Noctis. And he soaked in every second of it.

A low rumble in his throat as he presses the head of his leaking cock to your slick heat, he is in you with one, unforgiving stroke, your muffled cry into the bedclothes only fueling him. “Open your mouth, tongue out,” he hisses, his golden eyes flashing like a cat in the softness of the moon’s aura. You obey instantly, panting as he drives his hips forward. Becoming more animal than man, he stops talking, grunting and touching and taking as he shoves you further down into the bed, his claws digging into your hips as he held you in place. The sound of skin hitting skin fills the room and every so often Noctis leans down to breathe your scent in, nipping at your ear. You whine loudly, tongue lolling out of your mouth as he stretches you, forcing you up onto the bed fully, until you were on your knees, his hand shoving your head back down. “Down, down, take,” he mutters darkly, your own essence mixing with his, slick on your inner thighs as he continues his brutal assault.

You moan loudly, hoping Gladio hears, hoping he joins like he did last time. But the shield never enters the room. This time feels different, more formal, more like an act of duty than love. You look over your shoulder at Noctis, trying not to let him see the disappointment in your face. The king pays no mind, driving himself deeper still, until he can’t contain himself any longer. Gripping your new collar, he yanks you up and against his chest, a sheen of sweat on both of you, sin incarnate as he bites down on your shoulder. It elicits a shrill scream, his deformed hand covering your mouth quickly. He doesn’t want anyone to come in, not while he feeds. Still snapping his hips forward, he drinks deeply from you, ignoring your impassioned cries, torn between pleasure and distress.

This is your life now. The queen of a beast, of a man turned damned. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Your eyelids flutter when he comes, his hot seed spilling into you in thick ropes. He doesn’t pull out, merely lays you back down, continuing to fuck you, his second orgasm building before your first even began. “Mine. My queen, my life.”

“Anything for you, my king,” you whisper breathlessly, your hand resting atop his as he places it on your stomach, feeling you, lifting you to meet his strokes, his thrusts relentless.

He nuzzles your hair again, lapping at the blood dribbling from the wound on your shoulder with a soft hum. This goes on for what feels like days, only stopping long enough for you to catch your breath, try to sip at water weakly as he paces, chest heaving as he tries to control his urges long enough for you to regain some composure. You barely get the chance, crying out softly as he spreads your legs widely, knocking you onto your back so he can nose at your heat, taste his cum as it drips out of you. With a snarl, he pushes his cock back in, determined to breed you, even as you beg him to stop, to let you rest, your body weak as he drives into you harder and harder with each stroke. “Noctis, please, I can’t take anymore!” you plead, pinned under him. The door opens, your heart jumping into your throat as Gladio walks in. He pays the two of you no mind, closing the curtains as the sun rises, ignoring the way Noctis protectively hovers over you, shielding you from his gaze, selfish as he cages you in. Normally when the sun comes up, you leave, only staying long enough for him to get to sleep, wriggling out of his vice-like grasp. But not this time.

“Gladio, I can’t,” you call after him, sobbing as Noctis comes once more, your clit a sopping mess, your lips kiss swollen as he bites at them, at your chin. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

“You have to,” he says evenly, bowing before he leaves, his jaw clenched. “For the good of the kingdom.”

Days pass, a blur of heady orgasms, the bedsheets soaked with semen and sweat. Noctis rails into you without tiring, without compassion, forgetting who he is, where he is, focused purely on how you clench around him, thighs quivering. He’s in there, you know it. Your Noctis. And you succumb to his darkness, to his needs, to his primal desires. You will do whatever it takes to help him hold onto that sliver of humanity. Without it, you both will die, the reign of the cursed king ending as a tragedy, a lament of what could have been. So, you take the rough handling, the hands around your throat, the way the night seems endless in the sheltered Citadel. You take it because he’s in there. Noctis is in there. And after ten years of searching for him, you will never again be parted.


End file.
